just a bunch of stuff
by NoCokeProducts
Summary: Drabbles that come to mind seemingly out of nowhere. Some are NSFW, others are not. Requests welcome.
1. HashiMadaHashi

**Don't expect these to be perfect, mmkay?**

**Rated M.**

* * *

The first time they fuck it is overwrought with lust. Quick and frenzied. Much like their first battle against one another, both wanting it to end just as quickly as it started and last for an eternity. It occurs in a forest surrounded by trees and and tall grass, their weapons are forgotten, broken and and bloodied by the battle taking place in and outside the forest.

Their punches, blocks and kicks echo throughout the woods, until Madara sees an opening and seizes Hashirama's neck. Hashirama grips Madara's wrist, and the Uchiha squeezes harder forcing him down to his knees. Madara follows him to the ground ready to kill, Sharingan spinning dangerously. Hashirama's hips are straddled by the man above him, arms pinned by strong legs and his eyes burn when Madara keeps their eyes locked.

An excruciating pain rips through Hashirama when he tries to claw his way back to reality.

Specks of white blot his vision and his breathing becomes even more ragged when he feels arousal press against his hip. The hand on his neck leaves to join the hold on his shoulder and Hashirama can barely breathe as he and Madara keep their gazes locked tight. The man above him shifts his weight and Hashirama feels his own arousal forming.

He doesn't realize he's being flipped to his stomach until the last minute. His knees are pulled apart and battle-worn slacks stripped from his rear. Hashirama doesn't fight Madara's hold on his shoulder or hip, instead gripping the grass below him when he feels Madara slide into him. It's carnal, animalistic and he lets the initial pain subside into a slow aching burn as he lets quiet breaths leave him. Madara grunts behind him when Hashirama clenches around him, pushing his hips back when a sensitive spot is hit making him fall to his elbows. The sounds of their fucking escape their mouths and its over. Just as quickly as it had began Madara spills into him and slips out. Hashirama is left on the forest floor, drained and dazed.

The second and third time are hardly different from the first. Both their minds clouded with unknown emotions, eyes glazed and shining with ulterior motives. The second time is months after the first, Madara takes him against a boulder in the lightning country as the clouds gather around them. The third time is days after the second and neither has a problem lying to their brother about where they disappeared to during battle. They'd think it'd stop after the sixth. Izuna is dead and Madara is rough, rougher than before, nearly killing Hashirama and leaving him bleeding near a river in Fire country. But it is all too routine, too familiar and neither can deny the lust any longer.

Now, Hashirama has Madara pressed against one of the walls of the Fire daimyo's many guest rooms. They've been invited to the wedding of someone neither of them care to remember, and because of the Uchiha and the Senju seemingly being on friendlier terms both were surprised to see the other. Until they weren't. A hand trails down his yukata and he lets it tug the sash from his waist. They're grinding against each other, rubbing and licking and kissing against one another, against their better judgment, against their clans wishes, against a rather lavish tapestry that could fall away any moment if he doesn't get on with it! Madara reminds him between hickeys and panting against Hashirama's neck.

He waste no time, knowing the festivities are going to be begin any moment and the early morning spar the two had, which was now becoming their way of coaxing the other into another fuck, did nothing to give them time before the wedding. The spar was after dawn, the two knowing the other was out and when their gazes met there was an immediate reaction to unsheathe their blades and fight. When it ended, after nearly three hours, the sun painting the sky an orange hue, Hashirama had Madara pinned and tangled with his Mokuton. Before things could advance any further a servant made their appearance and request they clean themselves before the wedding. Hashirama released Madara and the two proceeded to bathe, and eye each other until Hashirama all but pounced Madara outside a, fortunately, vacant guest room.

At least they would have an excuse for being so red-faced and out of breath. Madara pushes off the wall and walks Hashirama backwards to the bed where they topple over the other for dominance. Hashirama grips the sheets on either side of the Uchiha and ruts against the man below him as his yukata falls open.

* * *

**Later, it's dark out.**


	2. Whoops, another MadaHashi Darn

**Yes another. I'm sorry I'll get back to KAL.**

**Rated M.**

* * *

It was like being doused with cold water.

And he shouldn't have been surprised his brother was the first to tell him.

Tobirama, standing in front of his desk, an unusual quirk on his lip and a satisfied look in his eye, cracking his usual condescending mask, seeming to enjoy the scandalized look on Hashirama's face.

Hashirama, on his part, refused to believe the allegations, the whole truth of the situation. Only wanting to believe Madara would tell him on his own, give an explanation, say his brother was wrong and he was an idiot for listening to the gossip Tobirama was spewing from his mouth, he waited.

Hashirama sat in his office, anxiety creeping its way up his neck as he went through paperwork, refusing to let the stress get the best of him. It had been hours.

Even though his brother had given him the information in the early hours of the morning, it had been hours.

Now, the busy sounds of noon have set in, and Hashirama is well aware of the Uchiha - especially their clan leader's - need to scout about the village and occasionally - usually, almost always - check in on the Hokage.

And so, Hashirama waited.

Not as patiently as he thought he had but when he heard the faint but familiar clacking of sandals outside his window he couldn't deny the sweat on his brow nor the rate his heart beat in his chest when he turned to greet Madara. He was nervous, which he thought was unusual at the time, and would later learn the reason behind in the following year.

As Madara stepped through a window of the Hokage office, Hashirama with a happy resolve and a feeling of relief set aside his paperwork and gives a wide smile to Madara.

"Hashirama." They had seen one another the previous day, albeit the circumstances weren't entirely friendly but the events that'd taken place that day have nothing to do with what was on their minds today.

He doesn't flinch when Madara shoves him forcefully against his desk. He doesn't refuse when he is bent across the polished wood and scattered papers. God knows he could never deny this man a thing. And so Hashirama is ready, ready to claw and mewl at the desk beneath him.

Hashirama let's out a breath that sounds faintly like a whimper and he hears Madara groan behind him. He feels the hot breath on his neck, the rumble run up his spine, across his back and holds back the moan in his throat.

* * *

**These dumb gay ninja are ruining my life.**

**Fuckity bye.**


	3. Neji and Hinata

**Gdi, I need to get back to my other stories.**

**Modern day. Neji and Hinata spending some quiet cousin time before she goes out for the night. Also, subtext is important and I'm working on it.**

**Rated T.**

* * *

Neji walks into Hinata's room more out of habit than anything else. She isn't bothered by the creaking of the door opening or that he is sweaty bruised from Lee and Tenten's attentions.

Hinata is curled up on her bed knees drawn to her chin, painting her toes and Neji nods at the shimmering blue. Walking further into the room he smells lavender.

"I told you not to light candles in your room." He's not looking at her, but instead at the candles near the drawn curtains of her window. They were fourteen and the room nearly caught fire.

He takes a seat on the bed, and Hinata nods at him. "I know."

Glancing toward his cousin, she smiles at him, and points to the calendar on the far side of the room. "Girl's night."

Neji nods, lips pursed and wipes the sweat from his nose. His eyes roam the room searching for the fire extinguisher he'd placed near her bed, just in case the curtains do catch fire.

Glancing back at Hinata he sees her finishing up the last toenail before moitioning for him to hand her the small fan on her nightstand. Neji reaches over, passing it to her and listening as she flips the switch and the quiet buzz of the fan begins.

He exhales, moving over to her window and drawing the curtains back, he opens the window. The light breeze makes the flames of the candles flicker, but they remain lit.

There is laughter to his right and Neji removes the hand scratching his neck when Hinata grins at him. He rubs the bruised spot absently before eyeing the phone on her bed when he hears it vibrate.

Grimacing, Neji watches her phone light up and hears the familiar tune of her ringtone. She's blushing, and he can see her wince when his cheek twitches.

Neji doesn't know what to make of Hinata's behavior and resists the urge to call an ambulance when he sees her shaking before answering her phone.

She mouths _Gaara _and Neji frowns, turning to walk out of the room. He's squinting at her, judging Gaara for calling so late and Kiba for not doing his job correctly.

Hinata giggles and he hears the static laughter over the phone.

Neji shakes his head, making plans to speak with Hanabi about blonde boys, with their big dreams and blue eyes and how they throw you into the arms of another.

Before closing the door he takes one last glance at the candles, the flames are snuffed leaving wisps, faint smoke trails in the air.

* * *

**yah.**


	4. TobiMito

**Guess who's almost done with next three chapters of KAL?**

**Celebratory smut drabble featuring Tobirama and Mito.**

**Rated M**

* * *

The water is running and the room is steaming.

She's on his lap, hands braced on the edges of the tub as he thrusts into her and the water sloshes out the tub. Then, there hands rubbing the sore sore spot on his chest and moving to his back and pulling him closer. Mito breathes another name, and Tobirama kisses the spot under her ear.

Cheeks hot like roses, dew in her eyes and dripping down her face. He's unlucky, at the bottom of the heap. Vying for her attention and always watching her cry, always making her cry. Crying his name.

He sees it in her smile. As much as she tries to hide it when she bites her lip, she loves him. Hashirama.

Tobirama closes his eyes and grips Mito's waist, banishing the thought.

There are red waterfalls in his hands and he pulls those hairs until her neck is exposed. His eyes are open, watching Mito and the minute trembling of her lips. Her eyes are lidded and her hands move across the sinewed shape of his back as Tobirama nips at her collarbone and up her jaw.

Mito is scratching at his back, writhing and he pants her name as she breathes another. Her fingers run through his hair now as the water splashes and sloshes as they move against each other. The legs around his waist are still firm and she bounces as he gets closer to the edge.

Briefly, in the back his mind Tobirama thinks of how his brother loves the Uchiha, if he takes his time and how they move, thinking of them trembling against each other before caressing a thigh at his waist. There's a gasp and he sees them tugging and twisting, clawing and making those desperate whispers.

A low, throaty sound, a thrumming in his chest has Tobirama staining her and he listens to Mito pant in his ear.


End file.
